“Do you have everything packed?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I double-checked.”
He looked around the room. “Do you have your phone?”
“Yes,” she answered, trying not to be irritated. He was the one who left his things behind—like the shaving kit he left in her hotel room—not her. “I have my phone.”
“No, you don’t. It’s on the floor next to the table.”
Damn it. Now she felt like the bonehead. Without a word she picked up her phone and stuffed it into her bag with her charger.
Fifteen minutes later they had checked out of the hotel and were on their way. Michael backtracked a couple of times to make sure they weren’t being followed. It seemed to Isabel that there was a roundabout every other mile. She thought the circles were dangerous because she had had several near misses when she’d driven her rented car around them. Sometimes there were as many as six entrances into the circle. Michael wasn’t having any trouble, though.
“I heard you ask the manager at the front desk for directions to the Edinburgh airport,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“We’re going north, not south.”
“Right again.”
“I’m assuming you wanted him to think we were going to the airport.
“Yes.”
“You thought he recognized me, didn’t you? That’s why you lied. I thought he recognized me, too.”
“No, I didn’t think that,” he countered. “I lied because I don’t want anyone to know where we’re headed. We’ve been lucky so far, but that isn’t going to last.”
“I do think that manager knew who I was. He kept staring at me.”
“He’s a man, and you’re a beautiful woman. Of course he stared.”
Did Michael just give her a compliment? She wasn’t about to ask. He’d probably say something to ruin it.
“What’s our first destination?”
“Food.”
They stopped in a charming hamlet north of Inverslie and ate in a café attached to what Isabel called an all-in-one store. There were souvenirs of every sort: maps, both of olden days and modern, plaid hats, scarves, and blankets of the different clan colors. Nestled in the corner of the shop with a window overlooking an arched bridge was the café. There were only four small square tables with chairs.
They were the only customers in the store, probably because of the early hour and the rain. It was coming down in torrents now.
After the waiter took their order, an older gentleman came over to the table to introduce himself. He was tall, bulky through his sloped shoulders, and had a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a nice smile. He was also quite affable.
He welcomed them and said, “My name is Lachlan, and I’m the owner’s father. How are you liking the weather?” he asked as he pulled out a chair and sat. He chatted with them while they ate and answered all of Isabel’s questions about the area.
“Lachlan, will you help me find a map or two showing where all the clans are?” she asked.
“Old or new? Do you want to know where they are now or where they were back when?” He smiled then and said, “It’s about the same. Borders haven’t changed in centuries in some areas.” He went to a wall with a display of maps and postcards. He returned to them with four different maps. “As soon as you finish your scone, I’ll open them up and let you decide which ones you want.”
“Did you grow up around here?” she asked.
“No, no,” he answered. “I was born and raised in a tiny hamlet no bigger than a thumbprint not too far away from the Moray Firth.” He pulled the chair out and sat again. “I’m a Highlander through and through,” he boasted. “My job took me to Glasgow, and that’s where I met my wife and where our son and daughter were born. We still live there,” he added. “I’m only here for a few more days while my daughter and her husband attend a wedding in London. Why are you folks here?”
“We wanted to see all the places we’ve read about,” Isabel explained.
Michael was watching Lachlan. He could see the worry in his eyes and knew he wanted to talk.